


Adventures in Nugsitting

by kyrrann



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 80's Movies, Babysitting, Bromance, Buddy comedy, Comedy, Drunkenness, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Nugs, Nugsitting, Orlais, Silly, Singing the Blues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7797793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrrann/pseuds/kyrrann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwall wasn't expecting to nugsit when he arrived at Leliana's villa in Orlais.  He also didn't expect to launch a rescue mission with Krem to save Iron Bull and the Chargers.  A silly story wherein Blackwall has to save everyone and still get the nugs home before bedtime.  </p><p>Buddy comedy filled with pop culture references and loosely based on the movie Adventures in Babysitting.  Plus, Schmooples.  (You don't need to have seen the movie to understand the story).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Emergency

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gorgeous artwork at the start of the chapter was done by Hoxadrine.  
> https://hoxadrine-art.tumblr.com/commissioninfo

  
[](http://imgur.com/bGd7XIM)

“Oh thank you Blackwall!” Leliana exclaimed, a huge smile on her face when she opened the door.  She was dressed in a floor length, royal blue gown that perfectly accented her red hair.  With all the bows and ribbons in her hair, Blackwall was sure she was on her way out to somewhere important.  What he wasn’t sure about was what he was doing there.

“What’s happened?  All you all right?” he inquired slightly confused and out of breath.  “You don’t look like you’re in any sort of peril.  At least not any that I could help you with.”

“Of course I’m all right,” she giggled.  “Although I did get myself into quite a predicament trying to get this gown zipped up in the back, but as you can see, I managed that one okay.  I am headed to the grand gala that Lady Grace Farthington is throwing.  It should be a very interesting affair.  Everyone who is anyone received an invitation.”

“That’s.. good to know?” he said, slightly perplexed.  “So what did …”

“I was so worried when Varric said he had to leave Orlais tonight and could no longer help,” she interrupted.  “I thought I would have to miss it.  I should know better than to second guess Varric.  If he says he will find a replacement, he will find one.”

“A replacement for what?” Blackwall inquired. 

“Why, nugsitting of course,” Leliana replied with a giggle.  “Didn’t Varric tell you?”

“Nugwhat?!” he sputtered.  

“And here they are,” she said, her voice beaming with pride as she lead him to the kitchen, seemingly unaware of the confused look on his face.  “The pretty one with a bow is Boulette and the pudgy one over there is Schmooples II.  And these little darlings,” she pointed to two tiny nugs asleep in the corner, “are Schmooples III and Schmooples IV.  I call them Three and Four.  Aren’t they delightful?”

“I’m sure they are, but I …,” Blackwall tried to protest.

“Just remember to have them in bed no later than an hour after sundown.  I have their dinner in the pantry.  Schmooples II will try to convince you to give him extra, but just tell him no.  Even if he whines about it.  Boulette like her paws rubbed after dinner and the babies need a lullaby before bedtime.  You know a few songs, don’t you?”

Blackwall stared at her with a blank expression.   _“I am going to kill Varric,_ ” he thought.  He pulled a crumpled note out of his pocked that just said:  

_Blackwall (or Thom if you prefer),_

_Leliana’s having a bit of an emergency and I am no longer in this part of Orlais.  She requires your immediate assistance.  Please do not delay._

_Ever Yours,_

_Varric_

_Viscount of Kirkwall (or some such shit)_

Blackwall held up the note and tried to get her attention.  

“Oh yes,” she smiled.  “I'm glad Varric wrote it down.  Three had a bit of a cold this week, so please give him his medicine before bed.”  She turned towards the baby nug in the corner.  “We don’t want to have that nasty cough all week, do we?”

“But I …,” Blackwall tried one last time.

“I’ll be back before sunrise. Thank you so much!” she shouted as she dashed out the door to where a small horse-drawn carriage awaited her.

Blackwall stood there, in full armor with his sword, staring at the nugs.  Schmooples II looked back at him with a mischievous grin.  This is not exactly how he planned to spend his Friday night.

“All right, you little rodents,” he said sternly.  “It looks like we’re stuck with each other, so let’s just make a nice, quiet night of it.”

Realizing he had no need for his sword or breastplate, he took them off.   Leliana wouldn’t be back for hours, and he figured he might as well be comfortable.  He walked into the kitchen, opened the pantry and fed the nugs.  Before leaving the room, he examined some bottles of ale and decided to pour himself a rather large tankard from a bottle marked "Extra Potent".  As he drank, he could feel it going to his head faster than anticipated.  

“This must be the good stuff,” he muttered to himself.  Before he knew it, he was feeling pretty happy and the irritation about his situation began melt away.  He sat down on a chair clutching his tankard and set the rest of the bottle down on the nearby table.  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, when he felt something scratching on his leg.  He looked down to see Schmooples II pawing at him.

“Yer a bold one, aren’t you?”  he asked.  “Well, don’t come begging me for food.  Your mum said no.”

Schmooples II made a squealing noise and scampered off in a huff.

Blackwall had nearly drained his second tankard when he heard a knock at the door.  He was quite unsteady on his feet and realized he may have had one too many.  He took a deep breath, staggered to the door and opened it.  Krem was standing there, sweating and out of breath.

“Blackwall?” he said puffing. “What are you doing here?”

“Krem!” he shouted loudly, pulling him into a hug.  “How are you doing?  Did you get a note from Varric too?”

Blackwall hiccuped.

“Varric? What? No!” he said, sounding confused.  “There’s an emergency and I need Leliana’s help.  Is she here?”

“Ah, what seems to be the emer ... emergensh ... um, problem?” he slurred.  “Who needs looking after this time?  Yaks? Wyverns?  A fucking dragon perhaps?  Well, why not?  I’m a professshonal now.”  He puffed out his chest with pride.  The stench of his breath was impossible to miss. 

“No, you’re drunk!” Krem exclaimed.  

“Nahh.  Well … Jusssht ... a teenshy bit,” Blackwall held his thumb and index finger up to show him how much.  “Ssshorry to report, but no one here but us nugs.  Nugssshitting.  Such a noble profes ... profess … uh, job.”  

Krem put his head in his hands.  “That is just great!   The Chief and the Chargers are in trouble, Leliana’s nowhere to be seen and all I can find is a drunken idiot and his 3 nugs.”

“Four,” Blackwall said firmly.

“Excuse me?” asked Krem.

“There ... are ... FOUR … nugs!”  Blackwall shouted, trying to count on his fingers.

“Bloody hell,” Krem groaned.  “Do you at least know where I can find her?  I’m running out of time.”

“At the manor of ssshome high and mighty Lord, I’d wager,” Blackwall answered.  “Lord and Lady Fa ... Far ... Farfegnugen or ssshomething like that.”

“Fine then.  You’ll have to do,”  Krem growled  “Come with me.  You can sober up on the way there.”

“Ssshorry, can’t.” Blackwall pointed his thumb over his shoulder.  “Nugssshitting.”  A wide grin appeared on his face.

“Are you serious?” Krem said.  “Do nugs really need a babysitter?”

“Nugssshitter!” Blackwall stated emphatically.

“Andraste’s flaming arse, Blackwall.” Krem sighed under his breath.  “Surely you can leave them here alone for a few hours.”

“Hey, when the fucking ssshpymaster asks you to watch her damn nugs, you watch her damn nugs,” Blackwall exclaimed.

Krem watched in silence as Blackwall raised a fist, chuckled and said “Damn you nugs!”

“Are you quite finished now?” Krem asked.

“Bessshides, how much trouble can that big oaf get into anyway?”  Blackwall asked.

“You really don’t know the Chief all that well, do you?” Krem replied.  He sighed and explained.  “We got a job to escort a wealthy merchant due to bandits in the area.  We fought off an attack, got the merchant to his destination, received our pay and decided to spend part of it at the local tavern.  I had a quick errand to run, so I told everyone I’d meet them there.”

“Oooh!  What kind of errand?” Blackwall asked.  

“Look, it doesn’t matter.” Krem sputtered.  “I was about 20 minutes behind in getting to the tavern.  I walked in to see most of the Chargers passed out at the table and a very inebriated Iron Bull being dragged up the stairs by two women.”

“Ha! Good for him,” Blackwall said. “What exactly is the problem?”

“No way you get the Chief and the Chargers that drunk that quickly,” Krem answered.  “Besides, I barely made it past the door when someone attacked me.  I fought them off and ran.  Too many to take care of on my own when they have my friends as hostages.  I figured Leliana could send some of her people in and get everyone out safely.”  Krem took a deep breath.  “But as it turns out, I’ll have to go with Plan B.”

“Plan B?  Blackwall!  Blackwall starts with B,” he exclaimed proudly.

“Yes, yes it does.”  Krem put his hand over his eyes.  “Plan B is we sneak our way in, rescue everyone, kill some bad guys and get out.  Provided we can sober you up first.  So hurry up and get your stuff.  I’m not sure how much time we have, but I suspect it isn’t long.”

Blackwall sighed and started picking up nugs.  “All right, let’s go.  There’s a leash by the door.”

“Leave the nugs here,” Krem demanded.

“No way.  I am not going to leave them here.”  He picked up Schmooples II and stared him right in the face.  “This little blighter will definitely get into trouble.”  Schmooples II bit him on the nose.

“Ouch!” Blackwall dropped him to the ground and rubbed his nose.

“Fine, but keep them out of the way.” Krem warned.

Scooping up the rest of the nugs, and putting Schmooples II on the leash, Blackwall followed Krem out the door.


	2. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The roguish Flynn Witter (original character) finds himself in a difficult situation after a botched robbery attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flynn Witter is loosely based upon the character of Pacey Witter from Dawson's Creek (which I'm currently binge watching). He was originally a throwaway character, but he refused to stay as such. This is my attempt to add a little Capeside into Thedas. I promise, he will figure prominently into the story.

“Hey you!  Shut the fuck up, will ya?” yelled the guard.  “Or I’ll come over there and knock your head in.”

Flynn Witter stopped whistling and looked at the guard outside of his tiny jail cell.  He ran his fingers through his short, wavy brown hair and waited for the guard to walk into the other room with his partner.  Flynn’s blue-green eyes shone in what little light found its way into the confined space.

“But I can’t help it,” he mused.  “I always whistle when I’m happy.  And you know, I was looking for a nice little place just like this.   It’s a little small, sure, but what can you do?  The housing market is just so bad these days.”

“Keep yer mouth shut,” the guard yelled coming into view again.  “You’re in enough trouble.  Perhaps you should be more careful who you steal from.  M’Lord will see you swing for this.”

“For what?” Flynn responded incredulously.  “In case you haven’t noticed, I didn’t _actually_ steal anything.”  

“It’s your own bloody fault you’re a ruddy thief then, i’n’it?” came the reply.

Flynn wasn’t quite sure what happened.  He was usually quite good at thieving.  He had been doing it as long as he could remember.  For some reason, his skill and lucky dagger failed him.  And here he was, stuck in a cell of some pompous aristocrat who would likely order him to be hung in the morning.

Scanning his surroundings more closely, he began to contemplate his escape.  Down the hall he could barely make out the two guards talking.

“When does the boss get back?” inquired the first first one.  Flynn decided to call him Hairy because of the voluminous amounts of hair he had everywhere but his head.  For a brief, horrifying moment, he imagined the large man without his armor.  This was quickly followed by a brief, horrifying moment of trying to keep down his lunch.  

“Some big party tonight at the summer villa,” said the second, who Flynn dubbed Stench after the great smell that wafted back to his cage every time he walked by.  “Won’t be back ‘til morning, I ‘spose.”

“That’s just great,” grumbled Hairy, “I’m not gonna wait around here all night and babysit that little thief.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about little, old me,” Flynn called out.  “I’m just fine all by myself.  Besides, where would I go?  Oh, I know!  I think I’ll book a nice little trip up the coast to Antiva.  If you let me out, I promise to bring you both back some lovely souvenirs.”

“Told you to shut your mouth, whelp!” howled Hairy.  

Flynn bit his tongue.  There was no use formulating an escape if he didn’t live long enough to do the escaping.  He continued looking around his cell while keeping his ears open.

“So what does he want us to do with all this stuff we took off that dead merchant last night?” Stench asked.  “And what about this crap dagger we picked up off Mr. Chatty back there?”

“It’s sturdy enough.  Put it with the rest.  Boss will find a buyer.  He won’t be needing it anymore,”  Hairy replied.  Flynn could just see the smug look on the guard’s face.

 _“Those bastards!”_ he thought, “ _Now it’s personal.  Nobody touches my Elsie!”_  

“You got the key for the warehouse?” Hairy asked as he jiggled the keys hanging from the belt on his waist. “Cause I’m not loaning you mine again.  You’ll get it all sticky.”

“Very funny.  Yeah, I got my key. Hey, what about this gem?” Stench inquired.  “This’d look mighty nice around my lady’s neck.”

Flynn’s ears perked up.  He had an affinity for gems.  One might call them the backbone of his profession.  

“You don’t have no lady,” scoffed Hairy.  “Besides, the boss has a special buyer lined up for this one.   Wants me to take it to him tonight.  S’pposed to get another one off a merchant tonight, but the bastard had guards waiting for us.  Only a couple of the boys got away.”

“Boss won’t be happy losing out,” Stench reckoned.  “Wouldn’t want to be the two that survived.”

“Already got some men on it.  Merchant can’t stay hidden for long.  We caught up with his hired guards and I imagine they're being questioned quite forceful like at the moment,” Hairy replied before continuing.  “ I drew you a map to the warehouse.  Don’t want you to get lost again.”

“You mean you put a map in that periodical you got stuffed in your pocket?  Lots of etchings of naked men?” Stench asked.  “Not my cup of tea.  But hey, to each his own,” he teased.   

Flynn heard the sound of a loud thwack and then, “Ouch!” 

“Hey, I read Chain Male Quarterly for the articles and grooming tips.  Besides, I put it here because it’s not likely anyone will steal it,” came the reply.  “And anyone who would steal it won’t be interested in cracking the code.  So, you want it or what?” 

“No way.  I’ll take my chances,” Stench said. 

“Fine,” he replied.  “Now get going while I take care of our little friend back there,” Hairy remarked.  “I’m sure the boss won’t mind if we move his execution up a few hours.  I’ve got work to do.”

“Sure thing,” Stench replied.  "I’ll just be leaving you here alone with your, uh, map.  And you were complaining I return things all sticky.”

Flynn heard another loud thwack.  

“All right, all right. I’m going,” Stench responded sheepishly.  

Flynn started to panic as he heard the first guard gather his stuff and leave.  He willed himself to find something, anything.  He had just about given up hope when his fingers wrapped themselves around a small slender, jagged rock.  It would have to do.  He knew it was likely pointless, but he stabbed the rock in the lock and jiggled it around.

“Come on, come on,” Flynn muttered.  But it was no use.  The lock wouldn’t turn.  He tried again, this time taking a second to close his eyes and really concentrate, putting all his skills as a thief into the impossible task.

Flynn felt a familiar surge of confidence flow through him and out his fingertips.  The lock sprung open and Flynn bounded out into the narrow hallway. Hairy was still in the next room with his back turned, muttering under his breath as he flipped through the exotic etchings.  With no weapon, he picked a large rock off the floor, crept up behind the guard and bashed him in the back of the head, knocking him out with a single glance of the stone.

Hairy fell to the ground in silence.

“That will teach you not to touch Elsie!” Flynn said as he gave the man an extra hard kick in the side.  “Maker knows I don’t want to manhandle you more than absolutely necessary, but I’m going to need as much of a head start as I can get.  So let’s get you all set up in a cell of your very own.”

Flynn grabbed the guard's hands and dragged his body back towards his recently vacated cell.  “Andraste’s holy tits, man,” he grunted, “eat a salad once in awhile!”

Before he shut the door, he tucked the guard’s sword into his belt.  He preferred his dagger, but he knew his way around a sword in a pinch.  Elsie was nowhere to be found, but he knew where the guard who had it was heading, he just needed the map and key.  A quick search of Hairy's pockets turned up both items and a yellow gem that seemed to sing to him as he held it in his hand.  Even in the dim light, Flynn was mesmerized at its beauty.  

A noise from down the corridor brought him back to reality.  He stuffed everything into his pocket and slipped up the stairway and out of the dungeon in a flash.  


	3. Out of Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall and Krem rush off to the Tavern to rescue Bull when they are waylaid by a young man running from trouble.

“So, where is this tavern, anyway?” asked Blackwall after they had been walking for a while.  He still felt a bit woozy, but the brisk walk in the cool, night air helped tremendously.

He had stuffed the two baby nugs, Three and Four, inside his tunic with their little heads popping up through the neck hole.  Boulette was draped around the back of his neck and Schmooples II was on the ground at the end of his leash trying to chomp on grass in vain as Blackwall dragged the stubborn nug behind him.

“Almost there.  It’s just inside the town,” Krem replied, holding back a laugh as he looked at Blackwall.  “Although I’m really not sure how you are going to help with all those nugs wrapped around you like some ugly scarf.”

“Ouch!” Blackwall cried out as Boulette bit the back of his neck.  “He’s the one who said it, you should be mad at him.”

Schmooples II growled at Krem.

“So, do you have a plan once we get there?” Blackwall inquired.

“Well, I figure once we’re inside, I’ll take on the guards holding the Chargers while you go up the stairs and rescue the Chief,” Krem offered hopefully.

“How about we walk in there and ask them to let everyone go, pretty please,” he suggested.  “That ought to work just as well.”

“Hey, if you have a better plan,” Krem responded “I’m all ears.”

Blackwall was about ready to say something when a man raced out of the trees on the side of the path, crashing right into him.  

Blackwall hollered as he toppled over, nugs flying in all directions.  The young man stood up and pulled a dingy looking sword from his belt.  He pointed it at Blackwall on the ground.  

“Now, I know waving swords in someone’s face isn’t exactly the best way to make friends, but if you don’t mind, I’m in a hurry,” he said.  “Unless of course you want me dead too, in which case, I may have to renegotiate our newfound relationship.”

Before the man could do anything else, Krem cracked him in the back of the head with the pommel of his sword and he crumpled to the ground, motionless.  There was a brief silence followed by the sound of voices and running feet.

“Get down!” Krem commanded in a forceful whisper.  “Someone’s coming”

“I’m already down,” Blackwall shot back in a hushed voice.  “The stupid kid over there saw to that.”

“Shh!” Krem insisted.  He crouched down on the side of the road, sword at the ready.

“Why all the need for quiet?” Blackwall muttered.  “We aren’t the ones being chased.  What do I care if they catch the bastard?  I don't take kindly to people pointing swords at me.”

“Because we don’t know who he’s running from.” Krem whispered back.  “The last thing we need is to be picked up by some lord’s overeager guards or a regiment of soldiers who think we are guilty by association.”

Blackwall sighed.  After a few minutes, he could hear the rattling of armor getting farther away.

“Okay, I think it’s safe now.  Grab your sword and the nugs and we can get going,” Krem instructed.

Blackwall picked up Three and Four and stuffed them back in his tunic.  He found Boulette a little further away.  He scooped her up and put her back on his neck.  Then he stopped in his tracks.

“Uh, just one problem,” he groaned  “No sword or armor.  I left them sitting on Leliana’s floor.  Damn, I shouldn’t have had so much of that ale.”

“Actually, two problems,” Krem responded looking at the ground.  “That man just got up off the ground, grabbed your pudgy friend and took off.”

“What!? Shit,” Blackwall grumbled.  “Leliana’s going to kill me.  We’ve got to get that rodent back.”

“What about the Chief?” Krem protested.  “We’ve already been gone too long.  We’ll find the nug on the way back.”

“Easy for you to say,” Blackwall replied, “you won’t have to face Leliana when she finds out her favorite pet was kidnapped by some crazy kid in a dark cloak.”

“Point taken,” Krem acknowledged, “but he took off in the same direction we’re heading, so we might as well keep going.”  He bent over and picked up something off the ground.  “It looks like our little friend dropped something.  Get a look at this.”  Krem held up a ratty looking periodical and showed it to Blackwall.  “You’d like this,” he laughed.  “Chain Male Quarterly: The biggest hunks of Thedas in and out of their armor.”  

Blackwall rolled his eyes as Krem flipped through the pages.  He got to the middle of the periodical and stopped.  He guffawed as he turned it around to show his companion.  “This one looks exactly like you.  Have you been posing for naughty pictures Blackwall?  And what’s that on your arse?  A tattoo?  Come on Blackwall, drop ‘em.  I wanna see.”

“I should say not!” Blackwall protested as he tried to grab the periodical from Krem.  “Give me that!”

“No way,” Krem said smugly as he tucked it away in his belt and walked away.  “I’m definitely hanging onto this.  You never know when it will come in handy.”

“Hey!  That’s not me!”  Blackwall called after him.  

“Sure it isn’t,” mocked Krem.

Covered in nugs and with no sword, Blackwall decided it was best not to argue and followed Krem to rescue Bull and that damned nug.


	4. Don’t Fuck with the Nugsitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Almost to the tavern, Blackwall and Krem find themselves between two rival gangs of highwaymen.

“It’s not my fault you don’t have your sword or proper armor,” Krem said.  “You’re a veteran soldier.  Am I supposed to remind you to piss before you leave the house as well?”

“Well, you could have said something,” Blackwall protested.  “It’s these stupid nugs.  I don’t think Leliana has trusted me since she found out who I really was.  Not that she trusted me much before then.  If I let her down, she may decide that the Inquisitor let me off too easy and finish the job.”

“I think it’s more a case of laying off the ale when you are nugsitting,” Krem chided.

“You try nugsitting completely sober,” Blackwall shot back.  

“True” he mused, “but that doesn’t help us now.  We’ll have to find you a sword at least or this whole trip might be for nothing.”  

They reached the top of a hill and started down a winding path surrounded by trees down to the town below.  Krem continued, “When we get to the tavern, there is bound to be a guard or two stationed outside it.  We’ll just knock them out and take their sword.”

“You make it sound like a walk in the park,” Blackwall noted. “Just make sure they have a sword and not a bow.  I’m a crap shot with those.  You’d be just as likely to end up with an arrow in your arse as you would with one in your head.”

“You get what you get,” Krem stated.  “It’s not like we’re going to the armory.”

“Okay, but don’t blame me if your arse ends up looking like a...,” Blackwall trailed off mid sentence, stopping in the middle of the path.

“Why all this concern for my arse all of the sudden?” Krem responded not noticing that Blackwall was no longer walking next to him.  

“Shh!”  Blackwall whispered and motioned for Krem to follow.  “I hear someone up the path.”  He crept closer to the sound of voices, trying to figure out who was ahead of them, beyond the trees.  When he got close enough, he saw a group of four men sitting in front of a tent, cooking over an open fire.  From the look of them, he figured they were highwaymen.  “They don’t look so tough, I think we can take them.  And four fewer thugs on the road is good for everyone.” he said as he sniffed the air.  “Dinner smells good too.  Man, I’m hungry.  Never did get to eat dinner.”

Krem caught up and put his hand on Blackwall’s arm.  “Uh, Blackwall.”

“I’ll go round front and distract them while you circle round to the back and take them out one by one,” Blackwall continued.

“Blackwall…” Krem said again, sounding more urgent.

“On the count of three.  Three...two...one.” Blackwall sprang from behind the trees.  He walked right up to the one he assumed was the leader and struck up a conversation.  “Hello gentlemen.  Nice night, isn’t it?”  He looked at the spit and licked his lips.  “What’s that you’re cooking?”

“Well, well,” said the leader, looking over Blackwall.  “What do we have here?  A fucking nug convention? Or are these your girlfriends?”  He pointed at Blackwall and started to laugh.  Boulette hissed.

Krem came out of the trees to stand next to Blackwall, hand on his hilt.  “Ahem.”  

“Krem, I told you to…” Blackwall said through gritted teeth.

Krem pointed behind him at four more thugs walking toward them.  “Sometimes I wonder why the Maker even bothered to give you ears.”

“You’re just gonna have to wait your turn Farkus,” the leader of the first gang called out.  “We’ve got ourselves a bloody pet show over here.”

“Stop stalling, Dill!” the leader of the second group called out.  “This is our territory.  You know what that means.”

“It don’t mean shit, Farkus,” said Dill.  “We’re taking over.”

“The hell you are,” jeered Farkus.

“Well then, gentlemen.” Krem tugged on Blackwall’s tunic and started backing away.  “You seem to be busy.  We’ll be heading off now.”  

“Don’t you even think about walking away,” Dill said as a couple of his men surrounded them, blocking their exit.  “The only people leaving this here clearing are gonna be doing it in bodybags.”

“This is our territory,” Farkus continued.  “You wanna go right now?”  He pulled out his dagger.  Dill and his men responded in kind, weapons at the ready.

Krem whispered to Blackwall “They’re gonna kill each other _and_ kill us doing it.”  Blackwall instinctively reached for his sword, only to remember that it wasn’t there.

“Uh, excuse me,” Blackwall said sheepishly, “we couldn’t help but notice that you two groups of uh, people are about to start killing each other and we were wondering if you could possibly wait on that until we leave the area.”

“That’s your plan?!” Krem hissed.  “And you think my plans are awful?”

“Shut up, shithole!” Dill shouted at Blackwall.

“Wait a minute,” Krem stammered.  “That was really rude.  Take it back.  Apologize to the man.”

“What the hell are you doing?!” Blackwall growled.

“Distracting them while you and the nugs hightail it out of here,” Krem retorted angrily.  “I’m the one with the sword, remember?  Just meet me at the tavern later.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Blackwall couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You just don’t know how to be quiet, do you?” noted Dill, using one hand to hold his knife up to Krem’s face and gesturing towards his gang with the other.  “Don’t fuck with the Lords of Dark.”  His men shouted in agreement.

Blackwall had enough.  He quickly pulled Krem’s sword from his belt and touched the end of it to the tip of Dill’s nose.  Then he reached down and pulled the leg off of the chicken roasting over the fire and took a bite.

“Don’t fuck with the nugsitter!” he blurted out, his mouth full of chicken.

Dill threw up his hands and backed away cautiously, hands in the air.  “All right, all right,”  he said.  “Calm down.”

Holding the sword in front of them, Blackwall and Krem backed away until there was some distance between them and the rival gangs.  Finally, they turned and ran. They got halfway down the path before they crouched down behind a wall and listened.  Taking a deep breath, Blackwall said, “Not one of my finer moments, I’ll admit.  But at least they seemed more intent on killing each other than chasing us.”

“Don’t fuck with the nugsitter!?”  Krem laughed as he took his sword back.  “Are you completely mad?  Remind me to tell the Chief all about it when we rescue him.”  

Blackwall, red in the face, looked at the stolen food in his hand and took a bite.  “At least I’ve got chicken.”

From where they were sitting, they had a clear view of the city below.  After a quick scan of the area Blackwall stood up and said, “Why that little nugnapping thief!”

Blackwall took off running.  


	5. A Faceful of Nug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Flynn waits for Schmooples II to get on with his business, Blackwall and Krem catch up just in time to fend off another attack.

Flynn found himself in a small clearing on the far edge of the town, hiding behind some bushes.  Schmooples II was at the end of his leash, happily chomping on some flowers. “Come on you little rat,” Flynn pleaded.  “If you would spend more time fertilizing those flowers instead of eating them, we could both be on our way.”

Schmooples II stopped eating long enough to glare at Flynn.

“Hey, don’t blame me.  I’m not the one who ate the key. I know it’s tiny, but I still can’t understand why you would look at it and think “Hey!  Good eats!” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.  “I need that key to rescue the sweetest dagger you ever met.  Gentle curves. Soft, smooth hilt.  The gleam from the blade when it catches the sun just right.   Besides, I bet there’s all kinds of sparkling treasures keeping her company.”

Schmooples stared up at him and growled in response.

“I am _not_ overly sentimental,"  Flynn huffed as Schmooples stood there, unmoving.  "Look, I know I’m a thief, but recent events have proven I’m not exactly the best at my chosen occupation.  Plus, my policy has always been, if you have a key, use it.  A lot less likely to trigger alarms that way.  No need to over complicate things.”

Schmooples ignored him and returned to his half eaten flower.

“I'm not saying I’m looking forward to it or anything, but quit stalling.  I don’t have all night.”  Flynn sighed and continued to stare at the nug, as if he could will the little creature into doing nature’s business.  As he sat there staring, he slowly became aware of muffled shouts and running feet growing progressively louder.

“Hey you!  Nugnapper!” the voice yelled from a distance, “Stop right there!”

Flynn snapped to attention, trying to determine the direction of the voice.  He grabbed the nug and put him under his arm.   Schmooples II squealed and squirmed in response.

“Pipe down there, little guy, and I promise I’ll get you a nice steak dinner later,” he hushed.  Schmooples made a loud squeak.  “Okay, and a nice, grass salad for dessert.”  Schmooples made one last squeak, licked his lips and stopped squirming.

As the angry voice got closer, he turned to see a stocky, bearded man with crazed eyes descending upon him.  It was a terrifying sight; a man with nugs strewn around his neck, shrieking at the top of their lungs.  This, of course, set Schmooples off again.  Soon the night erupted in a titter of nugs and running feet.  

Flynn took off, the nug still under his arm trying to wriggle free.  “No you don’t!  We had a deal.  Not until you poop!”

Schmooples II was not amused and bit him square in the armpit.  Flynn cried out and dropped the nug as Blackwall tackled him, sending the everyone into a mass of arms, nugs, and curse words.

Blackwall pinned Flynn to the ground, his arms flailing, desperately trying to escape from underneath the weight of the rather large man accosting him.  “You….stole...my...nug!”

“What?!” Flynn stopped struggling.  “Are you telling me you chased me down just for a stupid nug? ”

Krem caught up to the scene.  “You know what they say, never come between a man and his nug.”

“Damn right.  And if you hurt him at all, you’ll pay,” Blackwall asserted.  Schmooples II sat on the ground eating a very large, yellow flower.  “Schmooples, did the bad man hurt you?”

“Schmooples?!  Maker, I’ve been captured by idiots.”  Flynn said exasperated.  “Who the hell cares enough about a stupid nug that they name it, let alone name it Schmooples?”  

Schmooples scurried over and bit Flynn on the ear.

“Ouch!”  Flynn bellowed.  “After all I’ve done for you?  I let you eat all the flowers and grass you wanted.  You should be thrilled that I also rescued you from these crazy nitwits.”

Schmooples looked sympathetic and licked Flynn’s cheek.

Blackwall replied, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be taking the nug.  I have some friends that require my assistance in the tavern over there.”

“Wait!” Flynn blurted out, still on the ground.  “You can’t take him.  At least not, not until…”

“Not until what?” Blackwall asked, sounding impatient.

He sighed.  “Maker, how do I put this?  You see, that little nug friend of yours got a hold of something that is very important to me and I can’t let him out of my sight until he, er, does his...um... business.”

“What business could Schmooples possibly have with you?” Blackwall asked incredulously.

“Uh, Blackwall,” Krem interrupted, “I don’t think he means that kind of business.”

A look of horror spread across Blackwall's face.  “You stole my nug so you could watch him shit?  What kind of crazy freak are you?”

“No!” he answered, putting his hands up in front of him.  “It’s not like that.  I swear!  Granted this whole situation doesn’t look good and Maker knows I’d rather not be doing it, but I don’t intend to let that thing out of my sight until I get it back.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Blackwall sighed.  “What makes you think we are waiting around here until he decides to relieve himself?”

“Please,” he pleaded.  “It’s important.”

“I know you two have a lot to talk about, but now is not the time,” Krem called out urgently looking past Blackwall.

“Fine,” Blackwall responded.  “I’ve got Schmooples.  Let’s go.  ”

“It’s not that,” Krem said, pulling out his sword.  “We have more thuggish types headed our way.”

“Again?  Do we have a sign on our backs that says ‘Attention all bad guys, please attack us!’ on it?” Blackwall turned to Flynn.  “Hey kid, if you want us to wait around here so you can go pawing through nug shit, you’d better help.”

Flynn stood up and pulled out his sword. “Deal.”

“Let’s hope you are better with that sword than you are with stealing,” Blackwall warned him.

“Ouch!  You wound me, sir.”  Flynn placed his hand over his chest.  “Well, as things go, I’m much more ferocious looking wielding my sword than you are wielding the local wildlife.”  

Krem laughed.  “He’s got a point.”

“You, shut up,” Blackwall glared at Krem.  “You take them from the front.”  He turned to face Flynn.  “You, come with me to flank them on the other side.  You can cover me until I get a sword to use.”  He ripped a small branch from a nearby tree and motioned for Flynn to follow.

The four men caught up with them, weapons blazing.  “There’s he is.  Get him!”

Krem easily fended off the first attacks while Blackwall & Flynn circled around to the side.   Flynn distracted the archer in the back with his sword as Blackwall snuck up behind and struck him in the back of the head with his tree branch.  It glanced off his helmet and only served to make the archer more angry.  He swung around and let off an arrow in close quarters.  Blackwall, light on his feet, managed to dodge the oncoming attack and readied his tree branch for another attack.

Before Flynn could turn the archers attention back to him, he heard a loud squeal.  The man howled as Schmooples II ran up his backside and sunk his teeth into his neck.

“What the...,” Flynn trailed off as he noticed what was going on and bashed the man with the pommel of his sword, knocking him unconscious.

“Thanks for the assist you two,” Blackwall chuckled as Schmooples squealed with pride.  He reached down picked up the archer’s bow and quiver from the ground.  “Gah!  A stupid bow!”  

Flynn ran ahead and blocked his next opponent’s passage with his sword.  

“Incoming!” shouted Blackwall.  

Flynn saw the arrow headed straight for him and swung his opponent around like a shield.  The man howled in pain as the arrow hit him square in the butt.  Flynn finished the job and knocked him unconscious.  

“Heh, I told you Krem!” Blackwall shouted.  “Just like a pincushion!”

Up ahead, Flynn could see Krem keeping the last two men occupied.  Before Flynn could move to help, he saw Blackwall pick up Schmooples and shout, “Hey, I think you dropped this!” One of the swordsmen turned around and found himself with a faceful of nug wrath.  Blackwall wrestled the sword from his hand and used it to defend himself while Krem took care of the last thug. 

A bald man with a scar that ran from his forehead all the way down his cheek, stepped out from behind the trees, grabbed Flynn and stuck a knife at his neck.  “I’ve got you now, you whelp.  I believe you have something of mine that I would like back.”  Flynn immediately recognized the voice (and smell) of Hairy, the hulking mass of a guard he hit with a rock and dragged into a cell earlier in the evening.

“I think you must have me mixed up with someone else my good man,” Flynn replied, his voice wavering as he felt the cold blade press against his neck.  “My friends and I were just out enjoying the night air with our pet nugs here.  You know how nugs can be if they don’t get enough exercise.  Claw up all the furniture.  Crap everywhere.”

“When will you learn to shut it?” Hairy growled.  Blackwall and Krem began to circle cautiously, weapons out.  “And don’t you two try anything stupid.  This man is a fugitive and I’m taking him into custody.”

“Now, now,” Blackwall said.  “He is dreadfully annoying, I’ll give you that, but let’s not do anything rash.”

“Rash?!  Do you have any idea how much trouble this kid has gotten me in?  If I don’t have that gem to the boss by morning, it’s my neck on the line.”

Flynn grasped the gem in his pocket tightly and gulped at the unintended pun.  He could feel fear and anger welling up through his body as the edge of the knife pressed even harder against his neck.  He felt a trickle of blood slide down his throat.   _It does not end like this.  Not Flynn Witter.  Not like this_. The gem felt warm and started to vibrate ever so slightly.  He suddenly felt power well up within him, like a second wind.  “Get off of me you shit eating bastard!”  

The next thing he knew, Hairy was lying on his back on the ground, the dagger knocked clear away.  He stood there stunned, feeling numb when he felt someone grab his arm.

“Impressive display, kid,” Blackwall said.  “I’m Blackwall and this is Krem.  You can explain yourself later.  For now, let’s get out of here before anyone else shows up.”


	6. Denials & Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn is forced to face the reality of his newfound powers while Blackwall hatches a dangerous plan to rescue his friends.

Blackwall felt sorry for the kid.  After pulling him away from the scene, he noticed that Flynn was visibly shaken. And, for the first time since he met him, speechless.  Blackwall wasn’t sure exactly what he had witnessed, but he knew that this kid was not an ordinary, run-of-the-mill thief.  While it was obvious he never trained in a circle, Blackwall was sure he had magic.

He kept a hold of Flynn’s arm as he led him to safety, with Krem covering the rear.  Once they found a safe place to hide, Blackwall sat Flynn on the ground.  Schmooples II climbed into his lap and made a soft purring noise.

“So kid,” Blackwall started, “you got a name?”

Flynn sat quiet.  Finally, he took a deep breath.  “Flynn.  Flynn Witter.”

“Flynn, do want to tell us exactly what happened back there?  That was some impressive display of magic.  Might have been good to know you were a mage from the start.”

Flynn shook his head.  “Mage...what?  No, you’re crazy.  That was luck, pure and simple.  Not magic.  Not ever.”

“No need to hide it around us, kid.  We’ve been around our share of magic and even followed a mage into a nasty, end of the world type battle and lived to tell the tale.”

“But you don’t understand.  I’m not a mage!” Flynn asserted.  “I’m a thief!  Ever since I was knee-high to a giant spider and they found me alone on that street corner and took me in.”  Schmooples up looked at him quizzically.  “Okay, maybe giant spiders are a bad comparison, but you get the point.”

Krem interjected, “You’d really get along with my friend Dalish.  She’s ‘not a mage’ as well.”

“All I know is what we saw.  One minute you had a knife at your throat, the next there was an explosion with you at the center.  Some kind of mind blast spell, I reckon.”  Blackwall contended.

“No!  I’ve never done magic a day in my life!” Flynn protested.  “I just have a knack for being lucky when I get into scrapes, that’s all.  I find it's a particularly valuable talent in my line of work.”

“If that wasn’t magic," Blackwall argued as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, "care to explain to us what we witnessed back there?” 

“I…,” Flynn stammered, “I don’t know.  Everything seemed to slow down and I had that familiar feeling I get in my body every time I’m about to luck my way out of something.  It was just more powerful this time is all.  Figure it was due to having a knife pressed up against my throat.  There's nothing quite like a knife at your throat to have you pissing your pants.  I had an overwhelming urge to scream and next thing I knew the man was on the ground and you were pulling me away by the arm.”

Krem pulled Blackwall aside and whispered.  “Some type of apostate?  A hedge mage, perhaps?”

“Could be,” he agreed as he stroked his beard.  “But I believe that he didn’t realize he had this power.  We’ll figure it out after get everyone home safe and sound.  I reckon the Inquisitor or even Dorian could shed some light on it if we contacted him.”

Turning back towards Flynn, Blackwall asked, “Did you do anything different when you used your, uh, luck this time?  Did something change?”

A look of acknowledgement appeared on Flynn’s face.  He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a yellow gem that sparkled like liquid gold in the moonlight.

“What is that?” Krem asked, eyes wide.

“It’s something I took from that big knife-wielding oaf back there at the start of this award winning evening,” Flynn admitted.  “Thought it might be worth some gold and I figured it was a fair trade for stealing my Elsie and locking me in a cage.  Maybe _it_ has some kind of weird magical powers?”

Blackwall reached out for the gem, but Flynn quickly pocketed it again.  

“Hmm," Blackwall started, "I don’t know of anything like that which would give a non-mage magical abilities.  But I have heard of objects which can enable a mage to focus their abilities.”

Flynn looked worried.  “Then you’re saying that all this time, my luck was… ”

“Magic,” Krem finished.  “Pure and simple.  Unfortunately, we don’t have time to figure this out right now.  Our friends are stuck in that tavern over there and we aim to get them back.”

Blackwall could see fear and confusion reflected in Flynn's eyes.  “Do you want to stay here?  You don’t have to come with us, you know.”

Flynn paused for a moment and said “No, no.  I don’t know what happened back there and I’m not sure I want to.  The one thing I do know is that I don’t want to be stuck here by myself.   You said you have some friends who need saving and I have a nug that I want to keep an eye on.  So as far as I’m concerned, I’m all in.”

Blackwall offered his hand to Flynn and pulled him to his feet, once again relegating Schmooples to the ground.  “Deal.  Keep that gem out of sight.  It may be useful to have someone like you on our side.  Now, let’s see what we can do about rescuing our friends.”

They crept closer to the tavern and Blackwall noticed two guards stationed outside the front door.  Skirting around the back of the building, he cautiously peeked in a window.  

“I don’t see anyone there,” Blackwall whispered, concern in his voice.

“There are guards out front, so they must still be here.  Maybe they are being held upstairs?” Krem replied.

“Hey,” Flynn called out.  “Do your friends resemble a diverse, grumpy bunch of miscreants from all walks of life?  If so, it’s your lucky day, because they’re down there right now playing musical chairs, except everyone is tied to their chair and as far as I can tell, there is no music.”

He pointed at a window that looked into the basement of the tavern.  Blackwall peered through and saw a large room filled with at least six large, burly men with weapons.  The Chargers were tied up in chairs at the far side of the room.  As he watched, a rather tall, thin man in regal clothing descended from a staircase connected to a tiny balcony room and began speaking to the assembled guards.

“Wait a second,” Blackwall said, “I don’t see the Iron Bull.  Where is he?”

“Probably upstairs where he was being dragged the last time I saw him,” Krem offered.

“Not to be a pessimist or anything, but those guys in there don’t look like they are in a good mood.  The really grumpy looking one who came down those stairs a moment ago just pulled out a freakishly large knife.  Anyone got a plan or should we just knock on the front door and pretend we are the famous Broma brothers from the Antivan City Circus?”

Blackwall thought for a moment and said, “Can you get that window open?”

“What kind of unskilled thief mage hybrid do you take me for?  Of course I can get it open,” Flynn confirmed.  “The main question is what you want me to do once I get it open.”

“Krem and I are going in through the front door to cause as much of a distraction as we can.  You sneak through the window and get them out of there.  With any luck, most of guards will head upstairs to see what the commotion is.”

“What about the Chief?” inquired Krem.  “He’s not down there.”

“Once the Chargers are safe, we can head up the stairs and rescue him,” Blackwall replied. “Don't worry, he’s a big boy.  Even completely drugged, I don’t think he’s in any real danger.”

“Wait a second,” Flynn protested.  “You want me to go in there alone?  Do you at least offer laundry service for when I inevitably soil myself on this incredibly well thought out rescue plan you've concocted?”

“Don’t be such a baby and get moving,” Blackwall commanded as he started for the front of the building.

“Fine,” came the reply,  “but if I die, I am so coming back as a demon nug and haunting you for the rest of your days!”


	7. The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flynn heads to the basement to rescue the Chargers while Blackwall and Krem create a distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Katara, bas!” = “Die, thing!”

“Exactly how many more times today will you almost get yourself killed?” Flynn mumbled as he nimbly pried the window open.  “Because I’m sure you’re headed for a personal best tonight.”

He scanned the room below through the open window and waited for the promised distraction from Blackwall and Krem.  At the moment he counted six guards and the lanky man with the knife, who he guessed was in charge.  On the right side of the large room was a loft with stairs leading up into it, but at some point walls were added to make it an enclosed space.  

On the ground, the man held his knife up to the face of a brown-haired elf.  “Tell us where you escorted that merchant this evening and maybe I won’t kill you.”

“Go fuck yourself.” The surly elf spit into his face .  

The man pressed the blade to her neck.  Flynn panicked at the sight of the knife and felt the gem vibrating in his pocket again.  “No!” his whispered forcefully as he motioned towards the elf with his hand.  He felt a surge through his fingertips and the knife flew backwards and landed on the ground, nearly slicing the man in the process.  

“What the… ?” the man blurted out, sounding confused.  He bent to retrieve the blade when a ruckus upstairs caught his attention.  He looked to his men and commanded gruffly.  “You two, upstairs with me.  You four,” he pointed at the rest of the guards in the room, “take them upstairs, tie them up and lock them in.  We’ll deal with them later.”

 _Do you think you could have made this a little easier on me and taken all of them?  Of course not, you lousy bastard._ Flynn thought as he watched the man leave the room.

The remaining guards yanked the Chargers onto their feet and pushed them up the stairs at sword point.  When they were out of sight, Flynn climbed onto one of the wooden beams that spanned the ceiling of the room and slowly made his way across, being mindful of his balance.  Reaching the loft room, he pressed his ear to the wall and listened.

“That should be tight enough, you reckon?” he heard one guard say.

“Yeah, that should do it,” agreed a second.  

The four men descended the stairs, sat at the table in the middle of the room and began dealing out a hand of cards.  Loud sounds of a scuffle could be heard from the upper floor.

“You think they need some help up there?” the first one asked, mild concern in his voice.

“Nah, they got it covered,” the second one answered. “Whoever that is up there entered the wrong tavern. Your play.”

The sound of glass shattering reverberated on the door at the top of the stairs.

“Are you sure?” the third one spoke up.  “I don’t want to make the boss mad.”

“Stop being a coward.  You playin’ or not?”

Flynn silently scooted his way to the side of the loft .  There was an open space in the wall where a window should be.  Flynn squeezed in and saw two female elves, two human males and a male dwarf staring wide eyed up at him.

“Who the blazes are you?” asked the dark haired man in a loud whisper.

“Hello ladies, gentlemen….and dwarf.  My name is Flynn and I’ll be rescuing you this evening.”  Pulling out the sword from his belt, he began to cut them free from the ropes. “If you look to your right and left, you will see we are in a very enclosed space situated above four guards who, while limited in intelligence, are well armed and probably even know which way to point a sword.”

He continued, “Your fine colleagues, Blackwall and Krem, are upstairs now providing a distraction.  And, with any luck, we are to make our way out of this room, across those beams and out the window without drawing any attention to ourselves.”

“For the love of Andraste boy, take a breath!” The dark haired man looked at the dwarf.  “And I thought you talked a lot, Rocky.”

“Shut it, Stitches,” the dwarf replied.  He looked up at Flynn.  “Now what this about going out a window?”

“Not just a window my friend, but across a wooden beam and out the window.  I hope no one’s afraid of heights because it’s a long way down.”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me” replied Rocky.  

“Watch your mouth, my fine gentleman...er, dwarf!” said Flynn in feigned shock.

“Watch my mouth?  You’ve gotta be shitting me,” the dwarf repeated, giving Flynn an incredulous look.

“I can assure you most wholeheartedly I am _not_ shitting you.”  Flynn finished cutting them loose and noticed they were having some trouble with their balance.  “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but you all look terrible.”

“We’re drunk,” Rocky said gruffly.

“They put something in our drinks,” said the dark haired elf, matter-of-factly.

“The effect is wearing off, but we’re still pretty unsteady on our feet,” Stitches explained.  

“You realize the one thing you can’t be right now is unsteady on your feet.  Did I mention our impending doom and the only escape is across the rickety wooden beam and out the window?”

“Don’t worry about me,” said the blond elf.  “I’m an elf.  I am more than capable of… “

She stumbled and landed on top of Flynn, her face just a couple of inches from his.  A smile spread over her features.  “Well, hello handsome,” she cooed.  “Care to come over sometime and check out my bow collection?”

“Stop acting like a fool, Dalish,” said the dark-haired elf as she yanked her off of Flynn.

“Maker, it’s never easy, is it?  Okay, everyone onto the ledge.  And for Andraste’s sake keep your mouth shut.  We only get one shot at this.”

One by one they exited the loft room through the open hole and began their slow trek across the wooden beam, trying their best to defy their wobbly balance and unforgiving pull of gravity.  Flynn brought up the rear.  He was relieved to see that the first of the Chargers made it to the window and climbed out.  

“Don’t look down,” he whispered to himself.

“No what’d you have to go and say a thing like that for?” Dalish whispered back.  “Because now I…”

Dalish started to slip causing a periodical in her pocket to fall out.  Flynn grabbed the back of her collar with one hand and the periodical with the other, preventing either from falling to the floor and alerting the guards.  

Upon closer inspection, he noticed it was none other than Chain Mail Quarterly.  “Hey, where’d you get this?”  He patted his pockets only to discover his copy was missing.

“I found it on the floor.  If you wanted to borrow it,” she winked at him, “all you had to do was ask.”

“Keep moving,” he said as he stuffed the magazine into his pocket and nudged her forward. Flynn breathed a sigh of relief as he and Dalish finally got through the window.  Before he had a moment to think, he heard a bellow from the front side of the building that was quickly followed by running feet.

“Flynn!” he heard.  “I sure hope you guys are out of there and ready to go, because we're gonna have company!”

* * *

“You sure the kid can handle it?” asked Blackwall as he and Krem made their way to the front of the tavern.

“I sure hope so,” Krem answered.  “As far as plans go, this one is pretty shit.  But it’s the only plan we have.”

They kept to the shadows as they approached their target.  “How do you want to handle the ones at the front door?” Blackwall whispered.

“I have an idea but you aren’t going to like it,” Krem replied.  “Follow me.” He stood up and walked to the door.

“Hey, you.  Tavern is closed.  Find another place to get piss dog drunk,” growled one of the guards.

“Um, we’re here to make a delivery,” Krem started.

“What delivery?” The guard eyed them suspiciously.

Blackwall looked as Krem.  “You’re right, we have the shittiest rescue plans.  Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

A quick nod between the two friends and both of them drew their swords.  In one fluid motion, each of the guards was knocked out cleanly by the pommel of a sword.

“Guess my plan isn't so shitty after all.” quipped Krem with a smile on his face.

“Well what do you know?  It worked,” Blackwall noted as he stepped over the bodies and burst into the room.  Four guards immediately leapt up from the table they were sitting at and drew their weapons.

“You gentlemen made a mistake coming here,” one of them hissed.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Krem replied as the fighting started.

Blackwall, having no shield other than the nugs, picked up a nearby chair and used it to block the worst of the attacks.

“These guys are smarter than they look,” Blackwall stated between blows.

“That’s not saying much,” Krem responded as he managed to knock out one of the guards out, sending him to the ground with a resounding thud.

Emerging from the door to the basement was a lanky man with a wicked looking blade and two more guards. For a brief moment, the action in the room seemed to come to a stand still.  “You boys are either really brave or really stupid to come in here.”

“I’d say it’s probably a bit of both,” Krem retorted.  “What do you think Blackwall?”

“I was going to say mostly stupid, but let’s not mince words.”  Blackwall picked a bottle of wine off a nearby table and lobbed it at the man, who easily sidestepped the attack.  The guard standing behind him went down as the bottle smashed into his face.

“I don’t have time for this,” the thin man said.  “You guys take care of these fools and report to me at the manor.”  He turned and walked hurriedly past the bar area and through a side door.  The room erupted in fighting once again.

“You know, I don’t think Leliana’s going to ask me to nugsit again,” Blackwall declared as he dodged a blow.

“If she does, I’d ask for an extra silver an hour,” Krem suggested.

“Well that would be something, seeing as how she’s not paying me anything now.”  Realizing they were outnumbered 2 to 1, Blackwall stated, “I don’t mean to be a bringer of bad news, but we don’t seem to be making any sort of progress here,”

“We can’t give up until we find the Chief,” Krem insisted.  “I don’t care how long it takes.  He’d do the same for either of us.”

Blackwall toughened his resolve and let out a mighty battle cry.  “I’ll hold them off here, you go get the Iron Bull.”

“No way,” Krem sputtered.  “You’re good, but not that good.  You’ll be killed and then I’d be left to explain what happened to Leliana.  No way!”

“Okay then,” he replied.  “You stay here and I’ll go get Iron Bull.”

“What!?” Krem exclaimed. “No, I didn’t mean that either.  We fight together or die together.”

“At this rate, dying is looking likely,” Blackwall lamented as he ducked under a sword aimed at his head.

A sudden, loud crash echoed behind them, reverberating throughout the room.  “No one is killing any of my friends tonight!” a voice called out.  

Blackwall turned to see the hulking silhouette of the Iron Bull standing at the bottom of the stairs, fire in his eyes.  On his shoulder was Schmooples II, squealing triumphantly.  The guards in the room seemed to shrink back for a moment in the presence of the large, imposing Qunari before they renewed their attack.

“Chief!” yelled Krem.  “Nice of you to join us.”

“Schmooples!” cried Blackwall.  “How did you… ?  I mean when did you… ?

“Ahh, so the little guy does have a name,” Iron Bull replied.  “And very sharp teeth.  Bit the ropes right off my wrists.  Tough little guy.  Remind me to take him dragon hunting with us.”

Schmooples tittered with excitement.

“You seen the rest of the crew, Krem?” Iron Bull asked.

“Got a man on it.” Krem held up his shield to absorb a blow.

“Good for you, I knew you had it in you,” he laughed. “I don’t know about you guys,” yelled Iron Bull over the noise of the fighting, “but this nug and I leaving to find a more friendly tavern to drink in.  You two coming?”

“You know Chief, if you spent less time talking and more time fighting, we might actually get out of here alive.”  Krem parried a blow from the nearby guard.  

“Fine, fine,” he answered before bellowing, “Katara, bas!”  

Blackwall saw him headbutt the nearest guard, causing him to topple over and knock his comrades off balance .

“You guys coming or what?” Bull asked.  “These guys won’t stay down forever, you know.”

“I hope Flynn got the Chargers out of there,” Krem said as he backed out of the door.  “I really don’t want to go back in there.”

“Well, I suppose there is one way to find out.”  Blackwall responded.

As soon as they were all through the door, they took off running, Schmooples II still perched atop the Iron Bull’s shoulder.

“Flynn!” Blackwall called into the night.  “I sure hope you guys are out of there and ready to run, because we're gonna have company!”


	8. Singing the Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a daring rescue, Blackwall and company must sing the blues.

Blackwall was relieved to see that Flynn managed to get the Chargers out of the basement relatively unscathed.  “Okay everyone, let’s get moving!” he urged.

“What?  Not even a ‘Thank you, Flynn, for your deft skill in rescuing our ever faithful companions’?” Flynn asked, keeping pace with Blackwall.  “No ‘Great job kid, I could use someone like you on my team’?

“I’ll buy you a trophy later,” Blackwall grumbled.

“You know, you could always get me a medal,” Flynn pointed to his chest.  “It could say “To Flynn Witter, the bravest of souls and best friend anyone could ever ask for.”

“Are you quite finished?” Blackwall said, slightly exasperated.

“Yes.  Just promise you’ll make it out of a sturdy medal.  That cheap stuff gives me a rash.”

“Please, stop talking.”  Turning his attention to Krem, he asked, “Is anyone on our trail yet?”

“I don’t think so,”  came the reply. “Not that it will take them long to find us.”

“Finally, some good news.” Blackwall breathed a sigh of relief.  “I need to get these nugs back home and before Leliana finds out we’re gone.”

“Now hold on a second,” Flynn protested, grabbing his arm.  “You said that you would help me if I helped you.  And seeing as how I performed the impossible without so much as one soiled trouser leg, you owe me a key at the very least.”

“He’s right, you know,” Krem nodded.

“Andraste’s flaming, nipple rings!” Blackwall huffed.  “Fine. Setting aside that _business_ with Schmooples for a moment, do you even know where we’re headed?”

“No,” Flynn answered, “but I have a map.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out Dalish’s copy of Chain Male Quarterly and started flipping through the pages.  “I just need to figure out which page the map is on.”

“Chain Male Quarterly!” Iron Bull interjected.  “That’s a good issue.  Great centerfold.”  He winked at Blackwall.

“Where did you get that from?” asked Krem, pulling out his copy.

“Oh look!  Blackwall’s posed for some naughty etchings!” squealed Dalish as she grabbed Flynn’s copy from his hands.

“Hey now, stop that!” Blackwall commanded.

“But you have such a nice ass,” said the Iron Bull looking at Krem’s copy.  “You never told us you have a tattoo.  Very nice!  I wouldn’t mind having a closer look at that later,” he teased.

“When will you get it through your heads that isn’t me?”  protested Blackwall.  “And I don’t have a bloody tattoo!"

“He’s right you know,” Dalish agreed as she poured over the centerfold.  “His arse is as smooth as virgin silk.  A little hairy, but smooth.“

“Stop talking about my arse!”

“Wait a second,” said Flynn as he grabbed both magazines.  Opening them both to the center pages, he pointed and said. “That’s no tattoo, that’s the map!  Blackwall my friend, your ass is going to help me get my Elsie back!”

Blackwall took a deep breath.  “You just aren’t going to let this go, are you?  I know I’ll regret asking this, but what direction, exactly, does my arse tell us to go?”

Flynn continued to study the pages as Blackwall looked on uncomfortably.  “Got it!” he cried.  “Follow me!”

Blackwall, Krem, Iron Bull, Dalish and the rest of the Chargers followed Flynn through the streets of the town.  After a few turns, shortcuts, and dead ends, they came to a gate leading into an alleyway.  “Just a little further and…”

They opened the gate and burst through, but instead of an empty alleyway, they found themselves on a stage in the middle of a concert.  The patrons fixed their eyes on the motley crew.  Blackwall, feeling his cheeks turn red under his beard, muttered, “I...I’m really sorry.  Didn’t mean to interrupt your...little concert...here.  We’ll be on our way now.”

The band leader blocked his passage.

“Terribly sorry, we took a wrong turn, and… ”

“No one leaves here without singing the blues,” the man stated flatly.

“What?!” Blackwall sputtered.

“No one leaves here without singing the blues,” the man repeated.  Blackwall saw the rest of the band move to surround them, further blocking the way out.

Blackwall looked out from the stage and saw dozens of onlookers, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Sing the blues, huh?” Blackwall gulped.  “I’m not even sure what… “

The band leader pushed him closer to the front of the stage.  Blackwall saw a sea of expectant faces and stammered.  “Uh...hi...my name is Blackwall or Thom, if you please.”

 _Duh de da da dum_ came the bassy riff of a lute behind him.

The music startled him, but he continued, his voice still wavering.  “I used to be a Warden, but I, um, don’t like...cheese?”

“Is this really necessary?” interjected Krem.  

_Duh de da da dum_

“This is Krem, the Iron Bull and Flynn.  And man, I can’t tell you the trouble we’re in.”

_Duh de da da dum_

Blackwall turned to see Krem, Iron Bull and Flynn staring at him, eyes wide and mouths open.Looking back to the crowd, Blackwall saw the guards from the tavern walk past and notice them on the stage.  He nodded to Krem, who shrugged his shoulders and then whispered something to Iron Bull.  Not knowing what else to do, he continued.

“You see, my friend Varric, he sent me a letter.  Saying get here now, the quicker the better.”

_Duh de da da dum_

“But it was just a lie, and now I’m stuck, watching these three.”  Blackwall pointed to the nugs around his neck, before adding  “And that one over there.”  He gestured towards Schmooples on Iron Bull’s shoulder.

 _Bum babum babum_ thrummed the bass.

“And it’s so hard,” he crooned.

“It’s so hard,” sang Flynn, who was obviously enjoying Blackwall’s discomfort.

“Babysitting these nugs!”  As the music picked up again, Blackwall started to feel more in tune with the music, the events of the last few hours welling up inside him.

“I got the...I got the nugsitting blues!”  As the music continued to play, he saw a second group of men enter the alleyway.  They were the ones he dispatched with Krem and Flynn earlier in the evening.   Flynn nodded to him in acknowledgement.

_Duh de da da dum_

The beat of the music brought his attention back to the audience.  “Someone knocked the door, it was Krem over there.”  

 _Duh de da da dum_   

Krem, looking terrified, sputtered.  “Our friends needed rescuing, they were tied to a chair.”

 _Duh de da da dum_   

“Ran into the Lords of Dark, and a thief named Flynn,” continued Blackwall.  “Only to find ourselves under attack again.”  

 _Duh de da da dum_   

Flynn stepped up and took the next verse. “That little nug there, he ate my key.  So I had to get up, grab him and flee.”

_Duh de da da dum_

Iron Bull piped in “Don’t look at me, I was tied to a bed.”

“Sure thing, big guy, that’s what _she_ said.” Krem interjected, small grin on his face..

_Bum babum babum_

“And it’s so hard,” Blackwall felt the weight of the night slip off his shoulders as he continued to sing.

“It’s so hard!” repeated Flynn, Iron Bull and Krem in unison.

“Babysitting these nugs!” Blackwall continued.  

“These nugs!” Iron Bull sang out.

“I got the….I got the nugsitting blues!”  Blackwall finished.  The group of bards on stage kept playing as the throng of people who previously blocked their passage stepped back to let them through.

“It might be best if we split up,” Blackwall murmured as they hurried through the crowd.  “Iron Bull, can you and the Chargers pull some of them away?”

“You got it,” he replied.

“Uh, I hate to ask, but can we have Schmooples back?”  Flynn asked.  “He and I have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Okay, but don’t let the little guy get hurt.”  Iron Bull handed him over to Flynn.  “I owe him a drink.”

“Don’t worry, big guy.  I promise I won’t let anything happen to him,” Flynn assured him as he draped the nug across his shoulders.

As they split up into the cold night,  Blackwall hoped he would never have to explain any of this to Leliana.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is heavily influenced by a similar scene in the movie, which can be seen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=552PLnE61TM


	9. Through the Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall, Krem and Flynn sneak into the manor to rescue Elsie while Schmooples finally gets down to business.

Flynn raced through the night with Blackwall and Krem close behind.  Iron Bull and the Chargers stayed near the alleyway in hopes of drawing away as many guards as they could, for which Flynn was eternally grateful.  Holding tightly to the periodical, he frantically tried to determine which direction to head next.  Tired and out of breath, he stopped at the front gate of a stately looking manor.

“This has got to be it!” he exclaimed, looking intensely at the page.  

“I thought you said this was supposed to be a warehouse, not some bloody palace,” Blackwall muttered.

“Oh no, it’s here all right,” Flynn replied, pointing to the picture. “You see the road curves around here, straight down and right into your most nether or nether regions.”

“Stop it!”

“Must be some nobleman who earned his money the _non-traditional_ way.  Bet they have the good stuff stashed in the basement,” Krem surmised.

“Good thinking,” said Flynn as he peered through the iron gate.  “Judging by the amount of activity I see through the window, there must be some sort of party going on this evening.  Any ideas on how to get in there unnoticed?”

“Hey, you’re the expert at breaking and entering here,” quipped Blackwall, “not us.”

“True, but I don’t want to be accused of not being a team player,” he replied, “especially by two walking brick walls such as yourselves wielding rather large swords.  And you know what they say about men with large swords.”

“No, I don’t.  What exactly do they say about men with large swords?” Blackwall asked turning to glare at him, arms crossed.

“Uh, that they um…are…,” Flynn stammered, “very nice and sensible people with very smooth and not at all hairy asses.”

Blackwall sighed.  “Just get on with it.”

Flynn reached up to grab Schmooples from around his shoulders and set him on the ground.  “Sorry little guy, you’re going to need to walk under your own power for a while.  This is where things get complicated.”

Schmooples made a short squeal of acknowledgement while Flynn knelt in front of the gate.  “Now, watch a master at work.  Normally it wouldn’t take long to pick this lock like this, but seeing as I don’t have my tools with me, I’ll have to improvise.”

“Hey Flynn,” Krem called.

Flynn continued to busy himself with the lock.  “I’m not sure if you realize, but picking a lock of this magnitude takes considerable concentration.  I need some quiet if you don’t mind.”

“But Flynn… ,” Krem repeated.

“Seriously man, pipe down.” Flynn snapped.

“Maker, I swear you’re worse than Blackwall.” With a flourish, Krem pushed on the gate and it swung open

Flynn felt his face flush pink and muttered, “My way would have been way more impressive.”

They entered and were careful to keep to the shadows as they circled the manor, looking for the best way in.  Seeing a side door, Flynn motioned to the rest to follow.  “This looks like the entrance to the servant’s quarters.  We’ll go in this way.”

Following Krem’s example, Flynn tried the door and found it, too, was unlocked.  “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but haven’t these people ever heard of locks?”

They stepped into a dimly lit hallway with doors on lining the walls on either side, which Flynn guessed opened into the servant’s sleeping quarters.  As he crept softly down the corridor, he heard footsteps at the far end heading their way.  

“In here,” he whispered as he scrambled through one of the doors.

“Great, now what?” Blackwall asked as Flynn gently shut the door behind him.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Flynn smiled. “I have a very, very cunning plan.”

“Oh this I have to hear,” Blackwall said in disbelief.

“Well first, we find my Elsie, second we lighten their coffers a bit and finally get out before anyone notices we’re here,” Flynn offered.  “See, as cunning as they come.”

“Would you two just stop it?” Krem asked exasperated.  “What about Schmooples? Is he still necessary to this _cunning plan_ of yours?”

“Based on how well everything else here is locked up, perhaps not,”  Flynn responded.  “My guess is we will to get to where they keep the good stuff, a key will be immensely helpful.  But I’m prepared to improvise if necessary.”   

A distinct smell began to fill Flynn’s nostrils and he turned to see Schmooples getting down to business.  “Well gentlemen, as luck would have it, we don’t have to worry about that particular predicament as our friend here has finally delivered the goods, so to speak.”

“Really Schmooples,” Blackwall asked.  “On the bed?  Don’t these servants have to put up with enough already?”

“Might I suggest a little more fiber in your diet?”  Flynn quipped as he pulled up his tunic to cover his mouth and nose.

“It’s just, you know, sitting there,” Krem observed.  “Out there ... on the bed.”

For a moment, the three of them just stood and stared at the key, safely embedded in the soiled mess on the bed.

“Now comes the tricky part,” Flynn explained, “extracting the key with the smallest amount of poop to hand ratio as possible.”

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, wiggle your fingers and get it out of there without touching it?” suggested Blackwall.

“I realize I’m still kinda new to this whole magic thing, but I would be more than appalled to find out there is a spell that actually covers this situation.”

“Oh, for the love of the Andraste,” Krem sputtered.  He picked a sock off the floor and rescued the key, cleaning it in the process.  He shoved it into Flynn’s hand.  “There.”

“Eww…,” teased Blackwall.  “Krem touched the poopy.”

Flynn pocketed the key.  “Okay. With that ugly piece of business over, let’s get moving.”

He put his ear up to the door and listened intensely.  Once he was certain no one was outside, they slipped into the hallway once more, Schmooples II following closely at their heels.  They reached the end of the corridor, and discovered it opened out into a large ballroom.  There was a party in full swing, complete with throngs of party goers in fancy outfits and servants with trays of lavish foods Flynn couldn’t identify and probably wouldn’t be able to pronounce even if he could.

“Well fellas, we’re gonna have to get through there if we have any hope of finding what we came for,” Flynn explained to his companions.

“Why is nothing ever easy?” opined Blackwall.  “How am I going to get through there unnoticed with a scarf full of nugs?  I doubt even the Orlesians would find this fashionable.”

“I don’t know Blackwall,” said Krem.  “You could start a new trend.”

Flynn pointed to a door on a nearby wall about 20 feet from where they stood.  “That door over there.  It looks like it might lead to a stairway.  Let’s get moving.”

“Shit!” Flynn heard Blackwall cry out in surprise.  “It’s Leliana!  Just my luck that this is the party she was going to.  Could this night get any worse?”

“Funny you should ask that,” said Krem.  “Do you see the man she is talking to?  It’s the one from the tavern.  You know, the one with the very large knife?  He did tell his men to meet him back at his manor. If I’m not mistaken, I think we found our less than honorable noble.”

“Hold onto your britches boys, it gets even better.” Flynn pointed across the room at a man in a guard’s uniform.  “Judging from the especially shiny head on that man over there, it looks like Hairy caught up with us as well.”

“Who?” Blackwall asked, looking confused.

Flynn merely made a cutting motion with his finger across his throat.  

“We certainly have a way with people, don’t we?” asked Krem.

From his vantage point in the hallway, Flynn could see some covered tables near the wall that would provide sufficient cover.  “Gentlemen,” he whispered, “did I not promise you an exciting time if you came with me?”

“I’ll be sure to tell my grandchildren,” Blackwall responded.  “Provided I live long enough to have any.”

“Calm down old man, you don’t need to come with me.  Just stay here and cover our exit.  I’ll sneak through the door, get what I need and be back in a flash.  This is what I do, after all.”  Flynn flashed a large smile before crouching down as low as he could go and exiting from his hiding place.  He made his way slowly across to the door on the other side of the room, utilizing skills from his years as a thief.  As he made his final push towards the door he looked back and noticed Schmooples leave the safety of the hallway to follow a servant carrying a rather large plate of food.

 _You just couldn’t resist, could you?_ he thought. _Well, nothing I can do about it now.  Blackwall and Krem are on their own for this one._

Flynn slipped through the door without another word.


	10. Penetrating the Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schmooples wanders off to find a snack while Flynn rescues Elsie.

_Not bad, kid,_ Blackwall thought as he watched Flynn slip through the door with a skill he didn’t realize the boy possessed.   “Hopefully this won’t take too long.”

“Agreed, but I suppose it is comforting to know that Leliana hasn’t arrived back home yet,” Krem responded.

Blackwall began to absentmindedly pet Three and Four, still safely tucked in the front of his tunic.  “Yeah, your mom would be livid if she found out you all weren’t safely asleep in your beds by now.  Isn’t that right, Schmooples?”

Not hearing a response, he looked up and down the hallway.  “Schmooples?  Where did you get to you little runt?”

Boulette made a subdued squawk from the back of his neck.  

“Where?” Blackwall asked, panic starting to overtake him.  Looking into the ballroom, he saw Schmooples II following a servant carrying a large tray of food. “Oh shit, this could be bad,” he gasped.

“Not gonna disagree,” Krem chimed in, pointing across the room.  “Flynn’s ‘friend’ over there, you know the bald, scary looking one, noticed him sneaking through the door and looks none too pleased.”  The man seemed to glower as he walked towards the doorway Flynn disappeared through.  

“Should we move in to help?” Krem asked.

Blackwall shook his head.  “Kid’s on his own for this one.  He’s much more resourceful than we give him credit for.  We have to get Schmooples before he causes a scene.”  Blackwall stuck his head out from their hiding place and ducked behind a nearby table, Krem close behind.  

“What exactly is the plan here?” Krem inquired.

“Given our track record, I think our best plan is none at all,” Blackwall replied.  His eyes darted around the space, before he started moving again.  “Then again, I’m a sucker for poorly thought out and rash decisions.  Follow me.”

They made their way across and entered a large alcove packed full of the most frilly cloaks and ostentatious hats Blackwall had ever seen.  He quickly searched through the racks before selecting a large rose colored cloak adorned with purple flowers and opulent gems.  “This should do the trick,” he murmured as he threw it on and pulled up the hood.

“You realize you look ridiculous in that, right?” asked Krem.  “Maybe you should choose something a little less flashy?”

“Krem, this is Orlais.  This one _is_ less flashy,” he retorted.  “Besides, I needed one big enough to cover these nugs.”  He noticed that Three and Four were now sound asleep as he tied the cloak shut.  Boulette purred quietly from the back of his neck, not seeming to mind being enclosed by the material.

Reaching over to another rack, Blackwall plucked a velvet purple cloak off a hook and threw it at Krem.  “Here, this one should be big enough to cover your armor and sword.  But just in case, we should probably take these.”  He picked up two discarded masks, handing one to Krem.  “Put this on.”

“Maker’s holy hand grenade!” Krem exclaimed as he placed the mask over his face.  “It smells like a wet fennec crawled in here to die.”

“Quit complaining,” Blackwall chided.  “It's probably just your breath.  Let’s go.”

“Easy for you to say, yours only covers half your face.”

Now disguised, Blackwall strolled out of the alcove and scoured the room for a glimpse of Schmooples II.  He kept himself as close to the outside wall as possible, lest someone notice him.  “I don’t see him down here. We can get a better view from the balcony.” he suggested.

The balcony ran across the upper edge of the entire ballroom and was filled with long tables piled high with food and drink.  The area was packed with various servants dropping off empty trays and picking up new ones to bring back down to the guests.  After climbing to the top of the stairs, Blackwall spotted Schmooples II.  Somehow he made his way up the stairs and onto a table.  There he was merrily chomping away on some hor d'oeuvres arranged on a large silver platter, seemingly unaware of the chaos that surrounded him.  

“There you are!” Blackwall whispered as he approached the table.  He reached out to grab him only to see the tray swooped into the air by a servant who was much too immersed in conversation to notice the stowaway.

“We’ve got to get him before someone sees him,” Blackwall lamented.  Moving ahead, his foot became tangled in his cloak.  He tumbled, crashing into the servant who pitched forward, lobbing the tray, and all its contents, high into the air..  Blackwall watched in horror as Schmooples II flew out the upper story window.

* * *

Flynn slipped through the door and closed it softly, a wave of relief washing over him.  He searched his surroundings and noticed two staircases in the tiny room, one leading upwards to what looked like a balcony area and one going down into a basement.

“As if I haven’t spent enough time in basements tonight,” he sighed as he made his way down.  

When he reached the bottom he found a long, dimly lit corridor stretched out before him, much like the one they had travelled upstairs a few moments ago.  “How many long, dark hallways can one manor need?  Could the architect have _been_ more boring?”

He crept quietly, knowing there were likely guards patrolling the premises.  “Now, if you were a room filled with untold treasures, including my beloved Elsie, where would you be?”  Coming to double door with rather extravagant doorknobs, he quipped, “Oh, I don’t know, how about here?  Fancy doorknobs always give it away.”

He heard footfalls from farther along the corridor.  “Okay, let’s hope this key was worth what I went through to get it,” he mused.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the key, put it in the lock and twisted until he heard a satisfying click.  Flynn rushed into the tiny room and closed the door behind him, pressing his body up against it.  After a few moments, he heard the footsteps pass by.

“Well that was a close one,” he muttered as he walked forward, almost colliding with a large crossbow pointed at his head.  He stifled a scream.  A quick examination of the mechanism showed that it was rigged to shoot anyone entering the room without first using the key. Wiping the sweat from his brow he grumbled, “I’ll never doubt the logic of wading through nug poop for a key again.”

The rest of the room wasn’t large, but it did have a desk in the center and some bookcases along the walls.  In one corner stood a marble statue of a rather well-endowed naked man posing proudly.

“Andraste’s ass, man!  Put a fig leaf on that thing!” Flynn cried out.  “Have you no decency?”

Flynn began to search the room..  He pulled out drawers, ruffled through the bookcases and even peered behind the tapestries.  Coming up empty, he leaned against the desk to think, absentmindedly reaching into his pocket and touching the gem.  He felt it grow warm with his touch.  

“Well I suppose it’s worth a try,” Flynn shrugged as he pulled the sword from his belt and held it out in front of him.  Closing his eyes and concentrating on the warmth of the gem in his pocket, he began to speak.

“Elsie, I have failed you for these last few hours.  Now our misery can end. Somewhere, somewhere close you lie with your tender sweet hilt and curved blade.”  His mind wandered dreamily for a few moments before he shook his head, bringing him back to the present.  “I cannot find you alone. I need you. I need you to guide my sword, please. Guide my sword.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but it felt as if something was guiding him through the room, closer and closer to his Elsie.  First he felt a pull in one direction and then another until his sword smacked into something hard.  Opening his eyes he found himself face to face with the naked statue, the tip of his sword resting on the end of its rather large genitalia.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” he called out in frustration.

Grumbling he examined the statue more closely.  It depicted a bearded man with long flowing hair.  Noticing the similarity, he pulled out his copy of Chain Male Quarterly and opened it to the middle, holding it up for comparison.

Flynn whistled.  “Oh Blackwall, you naughty, naughty man.  I bet you don’t have any trouble with the ladies.”

Hesitantly grabbing the statue’s phallus, he remarked, “Well, I suppose we ought to get this over with.  Just promise you’ll still respect me in the morning.”

He pressed down on the stone package and it gave way.  A grinding noise echoed through the room as a bookcase swung open, revealing a secret room behind the desk.   “Ha!” he cheered triumphantly.  Glancing back at the statue he added, “Thank you, but I must take my leave.  It’s not you, really.  It’s me.  I hope we can still be friends.”

His eyes lit up as he entered the vault to see all kinds of treasures: trays of jewelry, rare coins, dusty books and all manner of the latest weaponry and armor.  On a table at the back of the room, he found what he was looking for.  In front of some jars filled with rare and exotic spices, he spotted his beloved Elsie.  She sparkled in the dim light of the room, as if she were calling to him.  Reaching out his hand, he lovingly picked her up.  For the first time since this adventure began, he felt whole again.  “Elsie,” he breathed.  “The only woman who ever loved me.”

He removed the sword he had been using and dropped it on the floor.  Then he kissed Elsie’s hilt and safely tucked her back to her rightful spot on his belt.  As he did, an open ledger on the table with various transactions notated caught his eye.  “Well, well, what do we have here?  Remember boys and girls, the first rule of being a smarmy thief is not writing down all the evidence.  Rank amateur.”

“Drop it!” came the unmistakable voice of Hairy behind him.  “This is the end of the road for you.”

With his back still turned to the man, Flynn quietly unscrewed a spice jar marked _Ground Hot Pepper_  “Now Hairy, I know how much you love me, but we really need to stop meeting like this.”  He poured a large mound of the spice in his hand.  “I thought I was clear.  We were never any good for each other.  It’s over between us.”

“What in the void are you talking about?” came the reply.

Flynn whipped around and threw the ground pepper in Hairy’s face.  The man cried in pain and began flailing, tears rushing down his face.  “My eyes!”

Flynn grabbed the ledger and shoulder-checked Hairy, sending him sprawling onto his back. He exited the room and grabbed hold of the statue’s girth once again.  With a swift upward movement, the secret bookcase door closed, trapping Hairy inside.  


	11. And So It Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackwall and Krem rush to rescue Schmooples while Flynn causes a distraction.

Flynn raced back up the stairs and slipped out the door into the ballroom, intending to meet up with Blackwall and Krem in the hallway alcove.  The ballroom was still full of party guests, so Flynn made his way slowly, keeping behind the tables in the room.  As he approached his destination, he noticed that his friends were no longer waiting.

“Isn’t that always the way?” he sighed.  “Typical men.  They get what they want and then leave you.”  Hearing a bit of commotion from the upper balcony, he looked up and saw Schmooples perched precariously on one of the villa's windowsills, halfway between the upper and lower floors.  Two men in frilly cloaks were gesticulating wildly on the balcony.

His heart sank.  He needed a diversion before anyone noticed.  “So sorry about this …”  he muttered under his breath as he stuck his foot out in front of a passing servant.  The woman, carrying a large tray of cocktails and appetizers, fell flat on her face, causing a loud crash that echoed throughout the hall. With the attention of the room focused on the poor servant on the floor, Flynn walked over to a table with a large, tiered cake.  With one deliberate shove, he sent the entire thing splattering onto the floor.  The room erupted in chatter as everyone craned their neck to see what was going on.

Looking back up towards the window, he could now see Blackwall swinging back and forth outside with what looked like a tablecloth rope tied around his waist, desperately trying to grab Schmooples from the ledge.  Krem was on the balcony holding the other side of the table cloth and looked like he was straining to keep Blackwall in the air.

“And now I’ve officially seen everything,” Flynn muttered as he picked up a wine glass and threw the contents onto the dress of a nearby noblewoman.

“How dare you!” she screamed as she spun around to face not Flynn, but an prudish old man standing next to where Flynn had been moments before.  She slapped the old man sharply and tossed her drink into his face.  Flynn continued across the room, intending to cause more chaos when he felt someone grab him from behind.  

“This stops now,” growled the man as he gripped Flynn’s arms and held them tight behind his back.  

Flynn craned his head around to see the lanky nobleman in charge of the entire operation.  Never one to give up, he quipped, “Whatever do you mean, my dear, Lord Grumpy Britches?  Surely you have more important things to do than accosting the fine guests at your party.”

“Shut it!  You’re no guest.  Don’t think I haven’t seen all the destruction you just caused,” he hissed as he dragged Flynn towards the basement door.  “The question is why?”

“My good Ser, I can surmise by your sunny disposition that you mean to take me to the basement and lavish me with puppies and rainbows, but sadly I have to decline.  Bad allergies to those mutts.   Makes my nose run like a spigot.”

“Wait a second, what’s that?” Lord Grumpy Britches snarled as he reached out to grab the book from Flynn's pocket.

Flynn gulped.  “Uh, don’t touch that.  It’s a family heirloom.  A recipe book given to me by my Great Auntie Myrtle.  Crazy as a fennec, but wonderful cook.  I'll be happy to cook you something out of it if you would be so kind as to put it back.”

“My ledger,” he growled.  “Why would you be needing this?”  

Flynn felt a sharp piece of metal dig into his back.  Knowing he wouldn’t likely survive a second trip to the basement, Flynn cried out in desperation,  “Now you see the violence inherent in the system!  Help! Help!  I’m being repressed!”

A few of the party goers turned to look at them and the man briefly loosened his grip on Flynn, which he used to his advantage.  Breaking free and grabbing the ledger, he ran through the crowd yelling,  “You saw him repressing me, didn’t you?”

The room descended in complete and utter chaos.  Lord Grumpy Britches smiled awkwardly to his guests.  “Nothing to see here folks.  Just a party crasher.  Please, enjoy the party.”

Flynn pushed his way through the throngs of people and ran up the stairs to the balcony level with the nobleman in hot pursuit.  He looked through the window and saw that Blackwall managed to grab Schmooples and Krem was trying to pull them back through the upper balcony window.

“Hey there Krem, hate to do this to you, but we have to get out of here.”  Flynn grabbed the end of the tablecloth rope and quickly tied one end to a sturdy looking table.  “Party of three, all the way down.”

He slapped Krem on the back, causing him to lose his grip on the rest of the makeshift rope.  He heard a scream and a thud from outside the window. “You can stay here if you want, but unless you want Lord Grumpy Britches to put lots of big holes in your pretty new cloak, I suggest you follow me.”

Flynn slid down the rope to find a very unhappy Blackwall cradling a dazed Schmooples.  

“I should have known it was you,” Blackwall muttered.  Schmooples hissed.

Krem slid down the rope behind him.  “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s go.”

“Wait guys, look. I found this.” Flynn pulled the ledger out of his pocket. “It’s a book filled with all of the thievery this unscrupulous Lord has been up to.  I bet there isn’t a noble house in Orlais he hasn’t stolen from.”

“Good job, kid.” Blackwall responded, setting Schmooples down and getting up off the ground.  

“I bet Leliana would know what to do with it,” Krem suggested.  “But first we need to get out of here.”

“Not so fast,” a voice sneered behind them.  

Flynn saw that Lord Grumpy Britches had scooped up Schmooples II and was waving a large dagger close to his neck.  Schmooples let out a small cry and tried to squirm away.  

He pressed the dagger closer to Schooples’ neck.  “I’m going to have myself some nug bacon in a minute if you don’t comply.  Now throw the book over here.”

Flynn, feeling utterly defeated, threw the book on the ground at the feet of the man.  “I’ve done it, now let Schmooples go.”

“Back up, all of you!” he ordered.  “And don’t move.”

“Let’s not do anything rash,” Flynn called out.  “It’s not them you want.  It’s me!  I’ll come with you willingly if you just let them go.”

“Oh, you will all be coming with me,” he growled.  Schmooples bit the man on the arm.  He screamed and raised the dagger to strike.

“No!” shouted Blackwall, Krem and Flynn in unison.

There was a loud thud and Lord Grumpy Britches fell unconscious to the ground.  Behind him stood the hulking figure of The Iron Bull.

“Did I not make it clear that no one is killing my friends tonight?” he boomed as he scooped  Schmooples from the ground where he had fallen and began to pet him on the head.  “You okay there little buddy?  I was afraid I’d lost the newest and most important member of the Chargers.”

Schmooples purred and snuggled against The Iron Bull’s chest.

“Now, what this about a book?” Iron Bull asked, picking it off the ground and thumbing through the pages.

“It’s a record of all the things this ass of a Lord has been up to,” Flynn responded gesturing to the unconscious heap.

“Do you think you can get this to Leliana for us?” Blackwall asked.  “Just, uh, don’t tell her exactly how you came upon it.”

“Sure thing,” Iron Bull responded.  “Krem and I will make sure it gets in her hands.  But first …,” he pulled out his sword and chopped off part of the tablecloth rope, “let’s get this guy tied up somewhere more secluded.  We don’t want him escaping.  If I know Leliana, she’s going to have quite a few questions for him.  He’ll keep for a few hours.  I want to make sure this little guy gets home okay.”        

* * *

Blackwall helped Krem carry the man into a remote clearing to tie him up.  He kicked him hard in the chest.  “That’s for Schmooples, you bastard.”

Once that business was over, the four men walked quietly back towards Leliana’s villa.  The sun was barely beginning to peak over the horizon, illuminating the path ahead.  Blackwall noticed a faint smell of smoke in the air as the townspeople began to wake up and put on a fire.  Other than a soft chirp of crickets still singing their love songs, the only other sound was the soft clink of armor as they walked.  After what seemed like ages, they arrived at their destination.

“Blackwall, thank you for helping me and the Chief out tonight,” Krem said as he reached out to shake his hand.  Schmooples huffed.  

“And you too Schmooples II.”  Krem laughed as he patted him on the head.

“Yes, let me know when you want to go dragon hunting little fella,” Iron Bull piped in.  “The dragon won’t know what hit him.”

Flynn shuffled his feet and looked down at the ground.  “Well gentlemen, I shall take my leave of you now.  Thank you for a truly exciting, albeit dangerous evening.  Perhaps one day, we'll meet again.”  

“Flynn wait!” Krem shouted.  He turned to The Iron Bull.  “What do you say we let the kid travel with us for a while?  He’s pretty good in a fight and who knows, maybe we can toughen him up a bit so he would be worthy of the Chargers.”

“I don’t know Krem,” The Iron Bull started, "he’s kinda scrawny looking.”

“And doesn’t know when to shut up,” Blackwall piped in.

Flynn huffed and crossed his arms.  “Hello!  Standing right here!”

“What do you think Schmooples?  Should we let him come with us?” asked The Iron Bull.

Schmooples gave a hearty titter.

“Then it’s settled,” he said.  “I can’t promise you’ll ever be a full fledged member of the Chargers, but if Schmooples and Krem like you, then I like you too.  What do you say?”

A huge grin appeared on Flynn’s face.  “Wait, you guys actually want me to stick around?  I can’t say that’s ever happened to me before.  What’s the catch?”

“Well, you’ll be expected to pull your own weight,” Iron Bull replied, “and the new guy is always on latrine duty.  But other than that, no catch.  You can travel with us as long as you like.”

Flynn looked down at the dagger on his belt, gripping it firmly in his hand. “As long as Elsie is okay with it, so am I.”  He shook Blackwall’s hand.   “Thanks for not going back on your word and helping me get my Elsie back.  I can’t say my trust in people extends very far, but tonight made me rethink some of my priorities.”

“You did good kid,” Blackwall assured him.  “You did good.  Now, take care of that gem and try not to burn anything down while you learn how to use that magic of yours.”

“I’m sure Dalish can show him a thing or two,” Krem suggested.  “Although she is likely to call it archery practice.”

The sound of horse hooves echoed up the path.  “Hey, is that Leliana’s carriage?  asked The Iron Bull.

“Oh shit!  She can’t find you guys here and the nugs out of bed!”  Blackwall cried as he pushed his friends away.  “Go on, get lost!”  He ran inside and slammed the door.  He ran to where the nugs slept and carefully laid down the already sleeping Three and Four.

“Poor guys are tuckered out,” he mused. Pulling Boulette from the back of his neck, he said, “Your turn, pretty lady.”  As Schmooples climbed into his bed, Blackwall covered him with a blanket.  “And Schmooples, I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell your mom what happened tonight.”

Schmooples replied with a happy chirp and closed his eyes.

Blackwall heard the door start to open.  He ran to the front room, picked up a pamphlet from a nearby table and plopped down in a chair, pretending to read.

“Hello Blackwall!” Leliana cried.  “I am so sorry I am late getting home.”

“That’s all right.”

“Any problems?” she inquired.

Blackwall smiled.  “Oh no, no problems at all.  It was a perfectly uneventful evening.”

“Thank you again for helping me out tonight.  I promise next time you are in Orlais, I will buy you a round of drinks at the tavern.”

“No worries, Leliana.  I hope your evening was enjoyable.”

“Very much so,” she gushed.  “There was a little commotion at the end of the night with a food fight of sorts.  It was certainly exciting.  It is always good to have something to spice up the evening, no?”

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be off.”  Blackwall began to collect his armor and shield from the floor where he dropped them at the beginning of the night.

“Did you want me to have my carriage drop you off somewhere?”

“No, that won’t be necessary but thank you for the offer.”  He opened the door and walked out into the cool air.  As he strode onto the path in the early morning light, Blackwall began to sing softly.  “And so it goes, and so it goes, And you’re the only one who knows.”

* * *

A few days later, Leliana heard a knock at the door.  She rushed to open it, finding one of her messengers standing there.

“I was expecting you,” she said.  “Any news to report?”

“Yes, milady,” he replied.  “With the ledger recovered by The Iron Bull, we were able to arrest Lord Farthington and stop his operations in Orlais.”

“Good. And what of the items he stole?” she asked.

“Most of them have found their way back to their rightful owners,” he stated.

“What about the focusing gems?”

He pulled a small pouch from his belt and handed it to her.  “The red one is in here.  It seems, however, that the yellow gem has already been bound.”

“Oh really?”  Leliana was shocked to hear this news.  “How is this possible?”

“Thief who goes by the name of Flynn.  Seems he found it by accident.  Turns out he has latent magical powers.  The gem latched onto him.”

“That is not the best news.  I was hoping to give these to the Inquisitor to use when the time came.  Are you keeping tabs on this Flynn?”

“Yes, he is traveling with The Iron Bull and his company.”

“Keep watching him and report anything out of ordinary.  If the news I have heard is correct, we will need him trained up and ready to bind with the other gem in the days to come.  Now go.”

Leliana shut the door and walked over to the table.  Emptying the pouch, she stared at ruby red gem and whispered, “When the time comes, let’s hope this mage is on our side or we’ll all be in trouble.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Blackwall sings at the end is from Billy Joel's song "And So It Goes".
> 
> This particular tale is over, but I will be adding other stories to this series that will pick up where this one left off. Thank you to everyone that read it through to the end. I am thankful for your support. And while I am sad to be done with this one, I look forward to the future, as there are always new tales to be spun in the rich world of Dragon Age. :-D


End file.
